"I will try not to any more; but, lady, I shall never be happy again. I shall never again see the hills of sunny France. I feel that I shall not--but I will weep no more. I never close my eyes but the form of William appears to me. Last night I saw him. Oh! 'twas a fearful dream; he seemed to me to rise from the ocean, close beside this brig, and standing on the blue water, he spoke to me, as I gazed from this cabin-window. "'Come, Florette,' said he, 'come with me to our home in the deep; beautiful are its coral chambers, and its floors are strewn with pearls. Soft is the radiance that lights its gorgeous halls, where the riches of a thousand wrecks are stored; the dolphins sport like living rainbows in the watery sky above it, and the huge leviathans guard its golden portals. Come, Florette, I wait for you, in our home in the deep.'" Julia wept as she heard the plaintive tones of the poor girl. "Florette, it was but a vision, do not think of it." "Well, lady; yet I shall soon join my William--so my heart tells me. You will think of me when I am gone?" "Often, very often, Florette; but you will soon be better." Florette shook her head mournfully, and Julia, who saw she would not be comforted, left her to herself, and ascended to the deck. Lieutenant Morris was in a moment at her side, and in his conversation she soon forgot the unfortunate girl, who as soon as Julia had gone, threw herself upon a couch, and gave way to her cheerless thoughts; her eyes were closed, but ever and anon a large tear burst through the closed lids and rolled down the wasted cheeks, which already the hectic flush, so fatally significant, had dyed with its lovely hue. While the trio of old gentlemen kept up their smoking and conversation on one side of the companion-way, Lieutenant Morris and Julia took possession of the other. The young officer had not dared as yet to speak of his love to her, but he had not failed to evince it by every thing but words; and he felt assured that it was known to her, and not treated with indifference. "Julia," said he, as they gazed out upon the beautiful waters flashing in the clear beams of the morning sun, "do you know that we must soon part?" "I do not see how we can, Lieutenant Morris, unless you are going to take a cruise in the jolly boat." "We shall soon, doubtless, fall in with some merchant vessel from your native country, as we are directly in their course, and then you and your father, with all the crew of the Betsy Allen, will be allowed to go on board of it, and return to England." "Dear England, shall I so soon see it again." "And will you have no regret at leaving the Raker?" "Why, is it not an enemy's vessel?" "Not your enemy's." "No, it is not; you have all been kind to us, and we shall feel as if we were parting with friends."